A Stranger Among Us
by Sancho Villa
Summary: Alt. Universe Tale starring Lita, Simon Dean, Jeff, and a few more odd choices. An OC comes into town, and makes an impact in Lita's Life.
1. Amy's Place

DISCLAIMER:

I do not own any WWE characters. I do not own any other characters to which some character may have a coincidental resemblence to. Please don't sue me. I am not making any money off of this and I am just writing it for the benefit of my own entertainment as well as the entertainment of the other fans out there. Also, this is a story from my own imagination, any resemblance to real life events, or even those in another fiction is completely coincidental. Except for White-Wolf Game Studios, who inspire almost everything I write in some form or another. As an additional note, there are so many fan fiction stories out there on this site as well as others, so any similarity is coincidental or great minds just happen to think alike.

Also, to you, the community, I proclaim myself as a first time contributer, and I throw myself to your mercy. I hope my unorthodox practices have a place here, as this is the community I feel will most enjoy my work. All reviews welcome, of course. I apologize in advance for any mistakes on nettiqutte I might make, being a newb and all. I am, however, not new to writing, as I believe that will seem evident.

MINI-TREATMENT:

For those unfamiliar with the term, this is a treatment.

http:www.screentalk.biz/art050.htm

And while I maintain that I am NOT selling anything here, I do understand that these stories can be a bit alienating when they get long winded or complicated. So these might be good things to bear in mind before delving in.

-This is an alternate universe story. Many of the characters retain their widely known personailties. Not all of them are as you remember them. The characters, for the most part, retain their appearances. NONE of them retain their professions. If you want to read about the characters wrestling, you have your pick of the litter at this site. I am writing about the characters/people. Not about wrestling. Just my choice that's all (actually, I'm taking a weird dream I had the other night, and adding to it. I personally find that doing this makes new memories of the dream that seem just as real as the dream. And I enjoy that, when I have the time.) I hope I'm not stretching the definition of fan fiction too thin, as I haven't seen many stories setup like mine.

-The common ties of the characters are to the Florida Nightlife. They all have their own jobs, come from different places, but in this setting, they are all floating about the Jacksonville area, usually most active at late night. Being that I've never been to Jacksonville, I'm speculating alot. If anyone familiar with that area wants to help out, terrific. Other than that, forgive the inconsistencies.

-The Genre will be tough to put a finger on. Think of it as 40 Romance, 30 Action, 15 Horror and 15 Murder Mystery. There are also strong supernatural overtones.

-While an OC is a major character, I'll do my best not to Mary-Sue it up. It'll be tough though. :)

CAST:

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AMY: Amy Dumas. If you're a fan of hers, you'll appreciate how little she varies from her nature.

CHINO: An OC. Ample descrip in CH 2.

SIMON: Simon Dean. Not an exercise buff here.

MUGGER:Mikey Whipwreck. As a low-life nut.

JEFF:Jeff Hardy. Don't get too excited, minor role.

DAFF:Shannon "Daffney" Ward

STACEY:Stacey Keibler. Again, very minor role at this point.

OFFICER FULLINGTON: Jim "Sandman" Fullington

ROD: Roddy Piper

SHANIQUA: Linda "Shaniqua" Miles

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I

--- --- --- --- --- ---

"....And it is in that characteristic that Superman stands alone. Superman did not become Superman, Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he's Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the big red "S", that's the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears, the glasses, the business suit, that's the costume. That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent? He's weak, he's unsure of himself... he's a coward. Clark Kent is Superman's critique on the whole human race. Sort of like Beatrix Kiddo and Mrs. Tommy Plympton."

Simon munched away on potato chips and locked his gaze upon the TV. Amy, snuggled close to him, was doing her best to drone out the noise in her ear. It wasn't that she was particularly sensitive to distraction, or that she hadn't told him how loud he can chew because he doesn't close his mouth when he eats. It was that he either wasn't aware he was doing it... or he didn't care enough to change. She'd rather endure it than make a federal case out of it.

To look at her, you'd never know what a sweet girl Amy was deep down. She had a very rough upbringing, and grew up in a tough part of Jacksonville. Her mother kept them living from paycheck to paycheck, and Amy played an invaluble role in sustaining the house, as well as looking after her kid brother. Now the twerp was in high school and going through an awkward phase. He barely spoke to his sister. Amy kept in touch with her mother, but couldn't stand the grief she gives her. So she kept mostly to her own business, which for the time being was following her dream - being in a band. Simon was the lead guitarist and founder. Amy played rhythm guitar and sang. She had been going out with Simon for five months. While the thrill was gone from their relationship, she still got more than enough thrill from being onstage, performing with Simon and his high school buddies in local bars and small concerts. "Soldered Angel" might never amount to anything, but at least she'd always have the memories of these, her wild days.

Amy got up to get something to drink. "Oh, could you get me a Coke cutie?" Simon asked. Amy rolled her eyes, and grunted her acceptance. Once she opened the refrigerator door, a feint aroma caught her attention. She sniffed around. Eventually, she locked onto the source - some old leftover beef that was just starting to go bad.

"Where ya goin?" Simon asked when he heard her unlock the door.

"Bad Leftovers" she groaned, and took the tupperware to the garbage chute room only a few feet from her apartment door. As she turned back to her apartment, the door next to hers on an angle flung open. A man she'd never seen before was dashing madly out of it. Amy was startled, and she stepped back and balled up her fists. She never saw his face, his long brown hair covered his face as he moved. he retreated back after half a pace, scampering about to lock his door as fast as possible.

He donned a black rain coat, tattered baggy blue jeans, and flashy Nike sneakers. One sleeve was rolled up, revealing a slender, yet rippling forearm of medium complexion. His coat collar was folded halfway under itself. Amy could tell from when he made his pivoting stride back to the door that he was shirtless under his coat. All and all, this man did not look like he had it all together. Some sort of emergency seemed to beckon him.

He shifted his hair, and looked at Amy from the corner of his eye as the lock clacked shut.

"Sorry" he said, as he dashed towards the stairs, and scurried down them, and out of the building.

"Who was that?" asked Simon, overhearing.

"I guess it was the new guy. I didn't even know he moved in." she chuckled

"Hmmph."

"That was weird." she said, planting herself down on the couch by his side. Simon wrapped an arm around her. Amy had always loved Kill Bill, but she let her mind wander about the curious man she just saw for about ten minutes before focusing on the movie again.


	2. Next Door

II

One minute Chino's apartment was vacant. Most of his belongings lay in their boxes, opened, but not yet unpacked. Clutter was abound, yet restricted to only the sides and corners of the rooms. All the lights were off. A queer breeze swept through the room, even though all doors and windows were closed. Then all, of a sudden, with a feint glow about him... Chino appeared out of thin air.

He panted, and caught his breath, as he lumbered over to the kitchen. He poured himself a tall glass of apple juice. His brow glistened with sweat, and held his hair to it, forcing him to brush it back with his hand. Chino collapsed down into a seat at his kitchen table. He went to take another sip of juice, but his coat sleeve caught something. He noticed that it was shredded into sections from his elbow down. Frustrated, he withdrew a makeup compact from his pocket, and reflected upon himself.

He was handsome, but not devastatingly so. A Puerto Rican, he was also of a complexion that he could pass for just about any ethnicity along the Mediterranean, in the Middle Eastern or even Pacific Islander. His eyes were big, brown, and intense. His nose and cheeks were a tad large, his lips were thin, and his jawline was strong. His hands had many slashing scars on them, his knuckles were badly calloused as though pads had been infused over the skin, but his hands were also those of an artist - long fingers, bony, classically shaped with no overextentions or deviations from common range of flexibility.

His mind sauntered about in his dark kitchen. His keen ears picked up a moan from nowhere. He looked around, but the sound had come from truth the wall. He brushed it off, but a minute later, there was another one. Definitely a woman's moan. Chino rolled his eyes. This was not what he needed right now. As he left the kitchen to elude the sexual symphony that was tuning up, he heard bedsprings start to work themselves up as well. The kitchen wall must have also been his nextdoor neighbor's bedroom. As he went down his hallway, away from the kitchen, he hoped that meant he wouldn't be able to hear anymore from his room. Given his gift of hearing, he knew that wasn't a sure bet. Chino turned on the TV to drown out the sounds.

There was little of interest in the news. Local politicians in scandals, companies laying off workers, and of course - crime. Chino threw off his ruined coat, and stood in only his black slacks and sneakers, and went bottom's up on his beverage. His physique was rippled enough to stand out even in an martial arts "B" movie. Under his bronze skin, it seemed there was hardly an ounce of fat on him. His chest, shoulders and arms were quite developed, and there was no sign of a belly around his six-pack. There were, however, more scars. Some of them small, some of them over an inch wide. There were a great deal of them around his forearms, around the area where the coat was shredded. He also donned a golden chain and plain cross around his neck. It tickled him as he drank, as it was a bit tangled. In undoing it, he thought about God, and said a little prayer silently.

"God, I know given the choices I make, this next request seems a little... hypocritical. But if you could help me out in that department, I'd really appreciate it. It's felt like ages since I've been with a woman, and I'm trying my best to fight these urges and show some restraint. Please take the reminder away. Please let me remain calm, pure, and uncomplicated... for a while longer. Thanks. Amen."

Chino never met God, or Gaia, or Allah or whomever. But he couldn't shake the notion that sometimes, he had a sense of humor, and simply enjoyed laughing at people. It was a comforting thought, both as a sign that the world wasn't really as screwed up as Chino thought it was, and it helped him deal with the fact that the music of his neighbors love making would not let him sleep. He discovered this while brushing his teeth, as he could still hear them feintly from the bathroom, and he knew that trying to sleep through that would only peak his sense of hearing, and stir him up inside.

When he returned to his bedroom, a story of interest accompanied the newscast back from commercial break.

"And now, a Channel 6 exclusive. A grizzly murder scene has left a local neighborhood devastated and police baffled. A 25 year old woman was found dead, her badly body mutilated in a back alley behind the 24-7 convenience store on Forsythe and Main. She was discovered by a 24-7 employee. Police are not yet commenting on whether this death is related to the three other apparent homicides in the past two weeks, but sources close to Channel 6 tell us that the extreme damage done to the victims, and the M.E.'s inabilty to explain it is a common thread linking all the crimes, and is the only substantial lead they have. The funeral for Eunice Hickenbottom, the third of the four victims, is tomorrow at St. Agatha's Church."

Chino sighed, and hung his head. Then he hurled the plastic drinking tumbler down the hall. "Goddammit"!


	3. First Contact

III

Amy scrubbed her hair dry with her favorite towel. It was peach, and it had a small monogram of her initials in the corner. She stood in her bathroom, fresh from a morning's shower going through all the things she would need to get done on this, her day off. Her bath robe covered her adequetly, but she knew Christine wouldn't be able to manage covering an eight hour shift at the pet shop, so she planned to swing by there, and help out a bit. She resolved that she would not be talked into staying for more than an hour, however, as everyone needs their days off, and on top of that, Amy had lots of cleaning and rehearsing to do.

The skillet sizzled as Amy released an egg from it's shell. She looked aside at her stack of mail from the last few days.

"Bills, bills. Wonderful." she said, grinding her teeth. "Well, hello hello". She said this not to Simon, but to her new neighbor as she caught a glimpse of him through the window. She was able to see him because her apartment ran east and west, and his ran north and south. Their apartments formed an inner corner, a right angle of the large three sided square that was their apartment complex.

Chino had set up a home gym in his living room, and was pumping away. He wore only navy blue basketball shorts. His hair was neater, combed back, yet still long and flowing. She must have watched him do a full set of pectoral flies before she realized she was staring. And none too soon, as she heard Simon lumbering nearby. Amy cursed as she realized the eggs were overdone.

"Hey there Sugar Buns. Whoa. You need any help?" Simon said, sauntering in. He leaned in to kiss her, but she could smell his morning breath a mile away.

"Simon, please. The breath?"

"Oh, right. How's breakfast comin'?"

"It's comin." she said. As Simon lumbered out of the kitchen Amy scampered over to the window like a young exuberant child sneaking to a Christmas Tree before anyone was awake to stop her.

"... and it's hot." Amy grinned, curling her tongue against her teeth.

Amy would go about her day. She would tolerate Simon's frequent inconsideration, such as refusing to help her with any housework (though she knew he would riposte "Babe, it's not like I live here. You do your work, I do mine"... though it was almost as if he lived there with how much he ate, how often he wanted to sleepover), his roundabout way of insinuating that he was the main draw of Soldered Angel, and his grotesque sense of humor. She would dutifully help out at the pet shop that she loved and had worked for on and off for over five years. She would clean her bathroom, change the sheets, dust, pay her bills, kick her own ass with a few hard cross-country miles, read a bit of Anne Rice, and return phone calls and e-mail. And between much of that, she would sneak in glimpses at those windows across the way. She was not infatuated. He wasn't anything special to her, just something nice to look at. Something new and different. However, the one time he was there after breakfast, he quickly caught her looking at him, and returned a sly yet humble grin. As if to say "Hey, I'm flattered". Amy was embarassed for only a moment, but she didn't let it pre-occupy her. It was getting late, and she had alot to do for tomorrow's gig


	4. Amy's Concert

IV

The cymbals crashed, the bass swooned and the guitar blazed a hard and heavy trail for the bargoers to follow along with in rhythm. While most in The Pour House merely drank at the bars, conversed, and watched, the fifteen or so that were closest to the stage were clearly there to simulate a full fledged rock concert, jumping, hollering, swinging about and moshing. Some sang along, as all but two of Soldered Angel's songs were Rock, Metal, or old Punk covers. The applause from the true music fans among them was riotous when Amy closed her rendition of The Circle Jerks' "I Wanna Destroy You"

"Thank You!" Amy yelled into the microphone. She wore a faded green Bouncing Souls T-Shirt, shredded across the middle to show her six-pack, along with long fingerless gloves, black short shorts with fishnets over them, and high black boots. "Now, as many of you know, we do requests, but we only do so many in a night, because my throat can only stand so much abuse. Kinda like me with this asshole right here" she said, punching Simon sharply in the shoulder. He mimed as though it caused him real pain, then laughed it off.

"So what we do to encourage a little crowd participation... if you sing it or play on it yourself, you're guaranteed to hear it. So show your stuff, or you might not hear your song tonight."

As usual, no one in the audience had the nerve or talent to voluntarily take the stage.

"Oh come on Sean!" Amy said, trying to drag a familiar fan onto the stage. Her voice blaring over the amplifiers.

"Yeah, yeah. That's what you said last time, all fucking talk." she smiled. Chino, standing alone in the corner downed his drink, and mumbled to himself... "What the hell." Amy was still goading the crowd to get involved when Chino approached Simon. After a quick exchange, Simon motioned for Chino to take center stage, and Amy was startled. She handed him the mic, and retreated to the side of the stage. Chino was obviously nervous. He got a few encouraging whistles, and then Simon played a few light, mellow chords. "Lightning Crashes" by Live was what Chino attempted.

He cleared his throat, focused his gaze upon his shoes, and waited for his first line.

_Lightning Crashes, A new mother cries_

Nothing to turn heads, though it was clear that he was singing, not merely talking the words. Though his hair was tied back neatly when he took the stage, he removed the band, and brought it forward a bit so that the audience couldn't get a good look at his face. Instead, onlookers had to settle to judge him by his clothes, which were neat, but somewhat conservative for this sort of venue. A bone white silk button-up, black carpenter pants, and black leather basketball sneakers. Amy's curiosity was at an all-time high. She knew this was a tough song later into it it.

_The Angel closes her ey-yai-yaiyaiyai-yai-yes_

It was at this soft Arabic chant of a line that she, as well as much of the audience knew they were dealing with a talented singer. He handled the rest of the song with poise and intensity. Never really moving much to the song, but though his body language, one could tell that he felt the words he sang so vibrantly. Amy felt privaleged he chose a song that had a bit of backup to it, as she could support his echoed last verse

_I can feel it comin back again_

_like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind_

_forces pullin' from the center of the Earth again_

_I can feel it_

With the last few gentle strums, Chino's eyes remained shut. Then he became aware of his immersion into his performance and opened them up. The crowd let loose a wild round of applause. Chino again became awkward; appreciative yet a bit embarassed. Amy put an arm around him and told him "Good Job". He kept his head low, and smiled, though not at anyone in particular. He mouthed "Thank You" to all the crowd, and made his way back to his seat.

Soldered Angel closed that night's set with "Bandages" by Hot Hot Heat. As they began to pack up their equipment, Amy kept her eyes peeled for her mysterious neighbor. After a while, she saw that he was sitting close to the front door. He was entertaining a pair of women, smiling, and making them laugh. Amy doubted he'd still be around when they were through.


	5. Concert Aftermath

(Side Note: I cannot believe that on the same day I have to return my rented PS2 games, AND livejournal are both down, or running crapilly. It's just not fair. )

V

Amy's doubts were well placed. She, Simon, Jeff the drummer and Daff the bassist hauled themselves to the bar for after hours drinks and banter once they were done hauling their musical gear to Simon's van. Simon, as usual, found time to shoot the breeze with Stacey, the cuter of the bartenders, which left more work for the other three. Only Daff had ever been very vocal about Simon on this issue, but now would not be one of those nights, as she'd been fighting some sort of cold and had a headache, and basically just wanted to get some liquor in her. She hadn't been acting like herself for a while now.

"Oooh, oooh, when. When already." whined Jeff, signaling that Stacey had poured him too much.

"Aw, come on. I get more of a buzz from the fumes of this place than you'll get from that iddy biddy bit" said Stacey, puckering up her cheeks. Jeff smiled, but held his glass close. Stacey knew the sign of a good bartender was to be generous with the strong stuff, and she knew he'd hardly taste the alcohol with how well she mixed Red Devils.

"This is fine, Stace. Really, great. As always" he smiled.

"I'm half your size, but I drink you under the table. That's so funny." There was no doubt that Stacey was a party girl, and being a bartender suited her well.

"Jeff, tell her what you want her to do under the table other than drink!" goaded Simon crudely. Stacey feigned a shocked look, her mouth forming a "O" shape and her eyebrows furled.

"Asshole, one more crack like that, and you're going to be rinsing your drink out of your eyes" Clearly, she was not as shaken up about the comment as Jeff, who also had a tendency to withdraw at times.

"Ah, I'm just playin. Play-ing. You're the drummer, man. It's obvious that you have to be a vocalist to get her wet."

"We're close, but we're not that close babe" said Amy, joining in on the conversation

"... Hey I'll try anything once" Stacey said, leaning forward over the bar with her incredibly long statuesque legs providing more than enough leverage. Ed, a bouncer and cop, halted his conversation on the other side of the bar, put down his beer, and called attention to her vulnerable position.

Amy giggled, and turned her head catching the smooch on the cheek. "Bartender, I think I need a stiffer drink for what you're talking about!"

"So you're saying that guy wasn't your type?" Jim interrogated Stacey.

"I dunno. He was ok. Dressed nice."

"Nice ass too. I'd hit it." said Amy, nonchalantly

"What?!" exclaimed Jim, shocked yet amused.

"I'd hit it. _'I'd' _being the key word - of course meaning 'I _would_'... if I didn't have you big boy".

"Oh. Yeah. Nice. Too late bitch, you're walking home"

The mood remained light, the banter remained playful, and laughter reigned over the horseplay. Only a handful remained and last call was close at hand. ESPN played on all of the TVs suspended against the wall, and Amy and Jeff helped clean up the areas of the bar closest to them. Daff smiled at all the right times, but the most vocal of the late night Pour House crew barely said a word.

"So what if he's cute... and can sing?" protested Amy, in defense of her earlier comment. Apparently she hit a nerve.

"Shit, could he sing." chimed in Daff in agreement, prepping a cigarette.

"Ch'yaa. And... so... what if he moved in next door to me."

"What?" asked Stacey

"I'm not a hundred percent or nothin', but I think that's the guy who moved in last week."

"Damn. Easy access, sweetie. You go girl!" Stacey slapped her a high five, and refilled her whiskey sour.

"He's a little creepy" added Simon.

"Yeah, I get that from him too. I've never spoken to him or anything, but now I guess I've got to. If it's him. I haven't ever really seen his face good." Amy sensed that she should back off of this subject, judging by how somber the mood had grown since the high five". Daff continued to smile, wickedly, though no one paid it much mind.

"Hey, that's me right? Always up for an adventure."

"Just hope he's not the stalker type. He looks it don't he?" Simon asked Jeff, who agreed via facial expression. Simon then began singing the first few lines of "Every Breath You Take". If there was one thing Simon could do well, it was brighten people's spirits, and the buzz kill was averted. Later, when she was drifiting off to sleep safe in her bed, Amy would begin to dissect this moment, and why this discussion seemed to kill the mood. Why was this topic taken seriously, when so many others were brushed off?

"Son, you're under arrest" declared a large silver haired man from the corner of the room.

"Officer, I'm a musician! A little leeway is in order, is it not?" joked Simon.

"Fucker, if I had my way, you'd be getting the fucking needle for singing that bad." retorted Officer Jim Fullington, everyone's favorite local beat cop, coming in after hours for a few drinks. He greeted Simon warmly... with a headlock. He used his spare hand to take a swig of the beer Simon had been nursing, and subsequently put him down for his poor choice in ales. This was warmly received by everyone, even Simon.

Once things had settled down, Jim was asked what was new with work. Jim tried to avoid the question, but it was clear the normally light-hearted officer had something on his mind.

"Guys, I saw something last night I wouldn't wish my worst enemy to see. It was horrible. Beyond words. Someone give me a fuckin' light, I'm beggin ya."

Someone gave him a fuckin' light.

"You've all heard bout those murders recently?" the gang responded with mixed head nods and shakes.

"You people. Read a paper, or somethin'. You didn't hear it from me... but we have one sick serial killing mother fucker here in Jacksonville."

"Jesus, really?" voiced Stacey with a whisper, the only one who could form more than a sympathetic grunt.

"Who did you see?" asked Daffney, cutting to the chase.

"Some girl. I think her name was Ivory Ooh-lay... Ouh-let. French. Haitian rather. We're ruling out race, naturally, because of the similarities to the last three murders."

"Oh. I knew Eunice, the third one. She was a bit of a twat, but it's still fucked up what happened." Daffney volunteered with a toke on her cigarette.

"Jeez, I'm so sorry" Amy put an arm around Daffney. Daffney nodded and thanked her.

"They said they couldn't even stack her remains on the stretcher to take her out. They took her out in garbage bags."

"That's about right." concurred Jim. "That's all I saw of Ivory. I... I... I still can't believe someone can turn a human being, walking, talking and all that... into what I saw. It was like something out of a slaughterhouse."

"Like roadkill?" asked Simon. All of those present, which at this time included all of the bouncers, and some of their friends and girlfriends, shot him the evil eye.

"Well, sort of. But this was a girl. This was someone's fuckin' daughter. And she wasn't hit by a truck... or attacked by a bear... or... I don't know. That's just it. No one knows. We've called in FBI experts. People who spend their whole lives researching fucked up ways to die. No one can put together anything close to a believable theory as to how someone could get torn into pieces like this with no explosion, no collision, no burns, no machinery. These four people, as far as anyone knows, got chewed up by Satan himself, and spat back out for us to find. No rhyme, no reason, no way to explain it."

Officer Fullington's visage was pallor and cold. He was so immersed in his experience and its retelling, that when his eyes lifted from his drink, he realized for the first time that all eyes were on him, and the only noise in the house was the tuned down jukebox. He finished off his beer, ordered something harder, and announced...

"Listen. Everybody. I want you all to do me a favor. Until we make some sense of this shit... be very very fuckin' careful. Be alert. Be aware. Report suspicious people to the po... to me. Ok? Watch your asses, don't be out at night alone unless it's necessary. Just... just be careful, and look out for one another.

Amy and Simon would make love that night. It would be the first time that they did so without Simon coercing her that she could remember. Amy just didn't want to be alone that night. She'd never imagined someone as macho and burly as Officer Jim could be so rattled. Shortly after Jim's request, people disbanded. Daffney cried, and Jim held and comforted her - a sure sign of the apocalypse if there ever was one (for those who knew them). Everyone seemed a little more interested in how everyone else was getting home. And Amy asked Simon to stay. She heard nothing from her neighbor next door. Not as though that was unusual. Maybe he got lucky with someone from the bar, maybe he'd been sound asleep for hours. Regardless, Amy couldn't help but wonder about the dark haired stranger next door. Even while Simon was doing his best to please her.


	6. Twilight Hours

----

VI

Chino's face ached. He wasn't sure how much more fake smiling he could do. Danielle was quite drunk, and Chino was quickly learning how dull she was. Ashley had a bit more substance to her at least. But Chino certainly had no plans for either of them on this night, other than to make sure they got home safe and sound. All of the murders had been after 10pm. It was almost 2:30am when Chino found himself being given directions by a pair of drunken blonde ditzes. To his amazement, they gave fairly good directions. Between that, not having to deal with any police, and his performance back at The Pour House, Chino could classify this as a pretty good night.

That being considered, Chino reminded himself that he was sent to Jacksonville for business, not pleasure. Even though occasionally the two intertwined. He glanced over at his passengers. Danielle, the prettier of the two, was balancing her purse upon her head, and imitating some professor she and Ashley shared in the past.

"Nope. No intertwining tonight" he mumbled to himself. Apparently, he had a bad toupeé and an English accent. Ashley was in the backseat of his black Chevy Caprice, laughing away with her friend. Between the two of them, the slurred speech and squealing giggles never ended. Until Chino found the first of the two houses. Chino wished he'd had more time - he wasn't sure how to let these girls down if they wanted him to...

"I'm gonna be up makin coffee for a while... so ah... Chino, if you want, just stop on by after you drop Ash off."

"I wouldn't count on it, Dani. I've got lots to do tomorrow."

"Ah-huh. Ok, well, if you change your mind, you know where I'll be. I gave you my number, right?". Chino scrambled to pull out a crumpled up post-it note from his beverage holder, as if to say "Right here" It had never been written on actually, but Dani was too drunk to know that, so she assumed exactly what he wanted her to, and he didn't actually have to lie. She kissed him softly on the cheek, and left the car with a wave. Ashley scampered out to take her place up front for the next 3 blocks between her house and Dani's.

"I think you should come inside for my coffee. Mine's a bit hotter then hers."

"Well. Aren't you just a master of innuendos?" he smiled.

"So?" Chino's car came to rest in front of Ashley's house.

"I'm sorry. I like you both very much, and I'm very tempted. But I don't think this is best for either of us."

"Aw, ya sure?" the smell of her perfume and the feel of her soft hand against his cheek was almost enough to send him truly... utterly... irrevocably... wild.

"Yes. Definitely." he said, biting the inside of his cheek.

"But why?"

"Is there really anyway to answer that question without making you feel worse?"

".... Hey." she said, a bit let down.

"You are a very lovely woman. Dani is also. I honestly enjoy spending time with both of you. As friends. I don't make love to friends, Ashley."

"Jeez. Not to many like you out there these days."

Chino tasted blood from his exercise of restraint.

"Sweetie, you have no idea."

Ashley entered her apartment no worse for wears. Ironically, all the talk of coffee compelled Chino to stop by Dunkin' Donuts and pick up some joe. As he mixed in creme and sugar, he caught his reflection in the large glass window , and decided to reflect on his progress as well. He was chasing shadows. Sure it was early, sure it wasn't as though he had any equipment or contacts that could help him find who he needed to find faster. But he was sure he had already gotten close. So close.

Chino knew patrolling the streets, keeping a sharp eye, and getting to know all the local watering holes were the first steps. He also checked out the emergency room regularly. Maybe this thing didn't know how to heal itself. Other than that, there was little he could do. Suspicious would mount; around Chino, they always would. He accepted that. No one ever said his gifts came without a price. And that price was steep. Never getting close to anyone, save those from the tribe. Never trusting, or confiding. Never having someone around to tell you that it will all be alright. Or that it wasn't your fault.

Chino finished with the coffee, and left the Dunkin Donuts. As he did, it began to rain. Drops spattered softly onto his windshield as he opened the door. Upon entry, he withdrew the car keys and held them to the ignition... then stopped. With a sigh, he simply sat back, and indulged himself to the rhapsody caused by the irratic beats of the rainfall. A smile formed on his face, thinking of how foolish he looked, taking such pleasure in the simplest things of life. But truly, that was all he felt he had to take pleasure in. Everything else came with too steep a price.

With a yawn and a stretch, Chino zoned out a bit, and thought back on his last lead. He was in his apartment, unpacking. All of a sudden, twitched as something swept over him. A wave, a pulse, a signal. A sensation shot through him from beyond this realm. He picked up a sort of scent. It wasn't much, but he was forced to act on it. He remembered dashing out like a madman. That singer from the bar... she was there too. She was probably his neighbor, or his neighbors girlfriend or something. Thankfully, she didn't see him outside. It would be quite difficult coming up with an explanation for running out of the building, only to double back, leap up the fire ladder, tear the sleeve of his only coat and dash up the fire escape with such fervor and abandon as though the cops were chasing him. But he had to do it, with not a moment to spare. That urge Chino felt likely emminated from the astral plane; the realm that is transposed just over our own, where spirit is matter, and matter is myth. Being what he was, Chino was no stranger to the astral plane or Umbra, as it was sometimes called by his people. Which is why he knew that the sensation he felt could be a warning, a precursor to an attack, or a slip-up from an intruder. He had to get somewhere safer before he could try a Turnaround, and see where it was. By the time he got clear, and stepped to The Realm, there was nothing. He could only hope it wouldn't cost another innocent life.

--§--

The apartment complex was the sort that required a key to enter the lobby - really just a place for the mailboxes. As he did so, and began his three story climb to his apartment, he found to difficult not to wonder about his next door neighbor. He really didn't get a great look at her. Perhaps the girl fronting that house band was someone else. He didn't get a good look at her either. He'd been on the road so long - buried in his work, his mission - that he'd somehow made a habit of avoiding eye contact. It wasn't that he ashamed or anti-social. What his life had become necesitated that he somehow work against the forces that made him exceptional, and blend in. Come and go without being noticed.

"Snikt" went a noise behind an apartment door. He was noticed.

Chino froze. He had been withdrawing his keys to open his apartment door, having traversed the stairs while he was deep in thought. He deduced that the noise was the peephole cover of his next door neighbor, as it slid open. He did his best to unfreeze, but it was too late. It was obvious that he knew he was being watched, by how suddenly he stopped. It was reflex. Chino had been frozen by sounds such as that before, only in some of those times, it was the cocking of a hammer on a handgun. Or worse.

He gestured a slight wave in the direction of the people, smiled, and went about his business opening the door. If it was her who had caught him, he was quite embarrassed.

--§--

"I am so embarrassed" said Amy, shaking her head and making her way back to bed. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't feel right in her own skin. Amy usually found sex relaxing, but a combination of her unnerved status carrying over from the bar, and Simon's lackluster sexual performance forced her to abandon tossing and turning in vain. She had been microwaving a mug of water for herbal tea when she heard him jingling his keys. She dashed over to see if it was indeed her guest singing neighbor. She could confirm it by his clothes.

Somehow, the second she slid the thin metal plate aside on the door, he heard it. He froze like a deer in the wild, and Amy gasped. He brushed it off, signaling that he knew, and it was ok with a wave. It was the second time he'd caught her trying to sneak a peek, trying to satiate curiosity. As Amy drank the tea, and zoned out on late night infomercials, she reiterated to herself that said curiosity was innocent in nature, and she just wanted to get a better idea as to what kind of person was now living next to her. Nothing more.

"Nothing more, Amy." she whispered, eyes lowered as the TV lit the entire room a brilliant, yet melancholy blue.


	7. Inevitable Meeting

-- -- -- -- --

VII

-- -- -- -- --

-

-

"I am so embarrassed" said Amy, shaking her head and making her way back to bed. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't feel right in her own skin. Amy usually found sex relaxing, but a combination of her unnerved status carrying over from the bar, and Simon's lackluster sexual performance forced her to abandon tossing and turning in vain. She had been microwaving a mug of water for herbal tea when she heard him jingling his keys. She dashed over to see if it was indeed her guest singing neighbor. She could confirm it by his clothes.

Somehow, the second she slid the thin metal plate aside on the door, he heard it. He froze like a deer in the wild, and Amy gasped. He brushed it off, signaling that he knew, and it was ok with a wave. It was the second time he'd caught her trying to sneak a peek, trying to satiate curiosity. As Amy drank the tea, and zoned out on late night infomercials, she reiterated to herself that said curiosity was innocent in nature, and she just wanted to get a better idea as to what kind of person was now living next to her. Nothing more.

"Nothing more, Amy." she whispered, eyes lowered as the TV lit the entire room a brilliant, yet melancholy blue.

-- -- -- -- --

"Thunk". The amp banged against the lobby wall upon which the intercoms were installed.

"Hey! I told you to be careful!" yelled Simon.

"And I told you that these were too heavy for only one person!" replied Amy. She was trying to maneuver the amp into her building. She could only imagine what sort of scheme Simon would insist upon to get the amps up the stairs in time. Simon had some sort of big business trip today, and when he came back, he would immediately be buying better stage equipment. He would sell the old stuff, but he would need a place to hold it until he found a buyer. Until then, they needed to be somewhere safe. SImon talked Amy into it, even though it would have to go in various rooms in her apartment and remain in plain site.

"If you just rock it a little, you don't have to lift over stuff like that." he yelled. He was unloading another from the van. Apparently, Simon wanted the whole neighborhood to be aware of their actions. It was a nice enough day, a bit overcast at 11 in the morning. But Amy couldn't help but groan out loud, frustrated by Simon's bull-headedness. It wasn't that Amy was weak. For a woman, she was quite strong. About 5'8", a former all-state athlete in Track and Field. Amy loved pushing her body to the limits. Part of the reason she'd never gone the conventional route in terms of a career was that she couldn't compromise with a highly demanding schedule that kept her from either music, or exercise. She'd had a wide variety of crappy jobs because of this choice, including an exotic dancer for a while. But she had no regrets in regards to those choices, as she had basically lived the kind of life she's always wanted.

"Son of a bitch" she exclaimed. She'd nicked her toe as she shifted and shimmied the heavy amplifier over the doorway's floor plate. She inspected it quickly, it wasn't bad, it would just sting for a while and be very sensitive.

"C'mon babe, my flight leaves in an hour."

Unlike some people.

"Is everything ok?" asked a familar voice from the top of the stairs. Amy looked up to see her mysterious neighbor.

"Yeah, everything is ok. We'll just be a minute."

"Here, let me." Chino worked his way down, and around. He inspected the amp for a few seconds with his hands, letting them figure out the best places to lift the amp by. This gave Amy her first good look at his face. His brown hair was tied back, and it reached a bit past his shoulders. He had distinguished features. Fairly bushy eyebrows. She decided he was cute.

Simon got close enough to the doorway that he could see them. On one hand, he was glad to have another helper, and he gave a quick thank you to Chino as he began to haul the amp to the stairs. On the other hand, Amy appeared to be sizing him up. Chino lifted the amp quickly, and kept it close to him, that he would maintain leverage. He swiftly carried it up the stairs. By the time Simon got to the top of the first set of two, Chino was on his way to the van with Amy to fetch the rest.

20 minutes later, they had unloaded the last of them.

"Dude, Thanks so much." offered Simon with a handshake, which was heartily accepted. Amy's eyes widened when she saw how scarred his hands and lower arms were. Simon had noticed it, but did a better job of concealing his reaction.

"No problem, man. It's my day off, and I needed a new workout anyway."

"I'm Simon. This is Amy."

"I'm Chino. 3G."

"Ah, 3F."

"Yeah, right. Both of you?"

"No, just me"

"I see. Well, if you ever need a cup of sugar or flour or anything...." Chino thought for a moment "..Well, I don't cook, so I guess that's a pointless offer.

Amy chuckled "I hear ya though, likewise."

"Say, you were that guy in the Pour House that actually stepped up and sang with us, right?" noted Simon

"Yeah, that was me."

"Yeah, that was pretty good man. First time I've seen ya there."

"I moved in like, two weeks ago."

"Cool. Well, I gotta flight to catch. Good meeting ya. Thanks again."

"No problem again."

Simon made his way downstairs. Amy smiled awkwardly at Chino, rolling her eyes. She peeked down to see how far he was, and when it was safe, she would get to know Chino a little better. Chino was confused, and assumed she was done talking, and began to go back inside.

"So, are you from around here?" she asked, halting him in his tracks.

"No. New York City, originally."

"Wow. Cool. Headin' on down to "New New York" and you get a place here? Most people who migrate down get houses and lawns and stuff."

"Yeah. Well, I'm sort of between jobs for a while."

"Oh. Oh jeez, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Perfectly fine." he smiled.

"Yeah well, I'm really glad you helped us. Simon is great, but a samaritan, he's not."

Chino chuckled "I'm sure he has his good points that make up for it"

"Yeah" said Amy, unenthused.

"You guys were great, by the way. Really talented. Do you guys have a CD or anything?"

"Just some demo stuff."

"Great. How much is it going for?"

"For you, it fell out of the van."

"No, don't worry about it. I only steal music on the internet."

Amy got a fairly big kick out of that one.

"So you got family around here?" she asked.

"Nope. I'm here because of work."

"Got something lined up, or just trying to find something?"

"Why? You know of any good jobs?" he smirked

"Not really, otherwise I'd take it." they both laughed.

"Yeah, the economy is a real killer these days."

"What do you do?" she asked.

"I do what I can to pay the bills."

"I see" she said, lowering her eyes.

"Ok, ok. Twist my arm." he joked.

"No really, it's ok. Privacy and all that."

"I'm a bounty hunter."

"And you're not comfortable with that?"

Chino shrugged. "People who have experience with us have certain... preconceptions about us." Amy frazzled her brow, not following.

"If I said I was a mortician, you'd go... 'oh, he's like that'. Not quite making a judgment about me. In my experience, most morticians are good people. Fun, even. But it does take a certain breed, you know?"

"I guess."

"Well... I just feel uncomfortable about that. That's why I really try not to let my field of work define me as a person."

"Well you're the first bounty hunter I've ever met, and you're a real cool guy."

"Thanks. You're pretty cool yourself."

"Thanks."

Chino was glad she bought the bounty hunter bit. He hated lying, but when he had to, he went all out. He probably knew enough about bounty hunting that he could take it up should he need to. His love for learning and need for specificity enabled him to pass as a boxer, ultimate fighter, professional wrestler or agent, physical trainer, landscaper or office janitor. But nothing said 'give me my space' like someone who dealt with, and hunted armed felons for a living. Without realizing it, the small talk stretched on for about half an hour, covering nothing in particular. They closed things by agreeing to stop by The Pour House sometime soon and getting Chino acquainted with a few people. Amy continued about her day, trying not to think too much about her neighbor, as she was already in a relationship that was working for her. Chino tried to do about the same, but only because setting down roots was forbidden and dangerous for someone such as himself.


End file.
